


You Create an It, Then You Make It Real

by Froggimus_Rex



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Gen, Past Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Reproductive Abuse, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 09:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggimus_Rex/pseuds/Froggimus_Rex
Summary: That’s one of the things they do. They force you to kill, within yourself.





	You Create an It, Then You Make It Real

**Author's Note:**

> Set during S02E04 'Roll For It'.
> 
> Title and summary from _The Handmaid's Tale_ by Margaret Atwood

After what she was choosing to refer to as the 'supply chain incident, Catra had come to the realisation that finding out as much as possible about what her job actually involved was an extremely pressing health concern. As she scoured through files and pored over reports didn't take very long at all to discover how little she knew about how the Horde functioned. For how quick and often she'd mocked Adora's ignorance, it was sobering how effectively she'd been kept from considering the depths of her own.

To pick a completely random and not at all relevant to the moment example, babies. She'd never actually thought about where babies came from. Sure, theoretically, she knew, they'd explained that much, she found herself rubbing absently at inside of her upper arm, the small hard lump under the skin, as she remembered that at the time she'd been far more interested in the fact Adora had somehow grown breasts more or less overnight. But that wasn't supposed to be 'a concern', so she hadn't really cared, let alone asked herself the question, if no one in the Horde got pregnant, where did all the kids come from?

If she'd had to come up with an answer, she'd have said some husk of a village in the Fright Zone that had originally been some small village outside the Fright Zone, which was all the more reason not to ask. So when she'd found the memo from Replenishment and, rather than ask Entrapta and risk her new bestest buddy finding out she wanted to know what words like 'viable blastocyst', 'induced mitotic stasis', or 'growth-matrix implantation and gastrulation' meant or why Shadow Weaver would need to approve any of that, went down to check it out herself, she _really_ hadn't been expecting to find out that the Horde grew them in fucking jars.

Not that many, she thought, when she managed to force herself to look through the thick glass separating her from the 'clean room', maybe a dozen of the large fluid-filled bulbs seemed to powered up and only a handful of those had anything...recognisable in them, but beyond them she could see rack upon rack of, she didn't even know what they held, all lit with countless green lights.

A muffled whirring and clicking drew her attention as the automated robotic arms slid back into view, clutching a metal tube barely even the size of her thumb, one of those those steady green lights on the end, gently slotting it into the waiting port. Her screen lit up with information she barely understood: project number, project start date, authorising officer, project status, a magnified image of a blobby circle, serial numbers of genetic donors, names of genetic donors. Catra bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood as a hysterical giggle threatened to rise in her chest, accompanied by the memory of lying with her chin on Adora's belly, fingers stroking along her ears as Adora, young, dumb and so, so much more naive than she'd realised, pointed out there was no way they could make a baby. Not without a little help it turned out.

She wanted to run out of there, straight down to the cellblock, shake Shadow Weaver until she explained why, but standing there, staring through the screen, she realised she already knew.

_This_ wasn't something Adora would ever abandon, she knew that down to her bones. Which meant that so long as Catra had it, controlled it, Adora would come back to her and she'd never leave again. Especially since she was smarter than Shadow Weaver, wouldn't screw up like she did, and make her more afraid of the consequences of staying than leaving. All thanks to a blob of cells too small to even see.

As she scrolled through the project notes, her knuckles brushed against a heading labelled 'Growth Projections' and the screen filled with animated images, the blobby circle becoming defined, stubby lumps lengthening and smoothing into limbs, then all at once, there it was. It had a mess of disproportionate features, ridiculous giant eyes, oversized ears and tail, its fat fingers and toes tipped with tiny claws. And spots. Tiny regular ones dotting her limbs, and big, blotchy outlines covering her back and belly.

She wasn't sure why it was the spots of all things that did it, but suddenly she was scrabbling for the controls, her claws leaving long scratches in metal and plastic as she slammed the buttons. She watched through the window, chest heaving, as that hateful green light blinked and cycled to red, imagining she could smell the burning as the tube purged and auto-sterilised.


End file.
